


the affairs of a kingdom

by thepessimisticasshole



Series: Kingdoms of Crystal [2]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, Romance, Um???, kingdom - Freeform, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5256182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepessimisticasshole/pseuds/thepessimisticasshole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>basilton pitch is an icy prince. simon snow burns like the sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the affairs of a kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer- all characters (besides rose and celeste) belong to rainbow rowell

basilton pitch is an icy statue, all raven hair and skin pale as paper, crystal crowns and languid sprawls across golden thrones. his eyes are dark, grey as the depths of the ocean, and they spark with intelligence.

“i can rule alone, father.”

he could, with an iron fist.

“a land needs compassion, not just logic and reason.” it’s been far to long since there’s been a queen, he means. “find your humanity.”

and so there’s a ball.

ladies, resplendent in jewel bright ball gowns dripping with diamonds and emeralds, stream in from every corner of the world to win his hand. they’re accompanied by kings and queens and princesses and princes- a ball like this is not to be missed. even the daughters of their rival come, arriving in elegant carriages and escorted by a golden haired prince with suspicious blue eyes and a freckled hand ever-resting on the pommel of his sword.

basilton thinks it’s ridiculous. no matter what the outcome of the ridiculous ball, a queen will not be chosen- and his father knows it. hidden in his orders was a threat- it’s been too long since there was a queen, and there will be one.

there will be.

-

he’s played the perfect little prince.

he’s danced, and kissed dainty gloved hands, and escorted ladies to their carriages. he’s made polite conversation. he’s scrutinized each princess that’s fallen under his gaze.

agatha.

milky gold hair, silver doe eyes, skin as pale as his own. she knows how it is to put up a front- her smile is cold and her eyes are as calculating as his own.

trixie.

she’s a pale waif of a girl, walking fairy-light in her green gown and golden slippers. she’s making eyes at the one in the lilac dress and wildly curling hair across the room, so baz leaves her alone. he knows how she feels.

penelope.

sharp as a whip, she’s engaged to a prince across the waters. baz doesn’t know why she’s here. they exchange suspicious looks across the ballroom.

phillippa.

she’s overly eager, bouncing on the balls of her feet and practically radiating energy. she talks so much that baz wishes there was a way to make her voice disappear- he doesn’t say this out loud.

his manners are perfect.

he feels eyes boring into the back of his head, raking up his back, studying how he moves and who he’s talking to and how he looks when he’s standing alone, for once, with a glass of wine in the corner.

they fall in love with him, or they think they do.

he’s ice.

-

the snows are fire.

the pitches are fire, too, but they’re careful. they melt away problems, slowly, softly, so that no one notices.~ the snows are snapping, licking flames, sudden and unexpected. they’re words that singe and they’re sparking tempers, and it takes only the smallest movement to fan the flames.

there are two girls, twins- rose and celeste, both with rosy cheeks and baby blue eyes. one has freckles bridging her nose.

their younger brother is their escort- prince simon. hair like spun gold and deep blue eyes and moles all over, dotting his cheeks and his neck and- he’s beautiful.

he hates baz.

he has before he even met him- baz hates him too, on principal. but simon’s always hovering, like it’s his duty to protect baz from the poor girls dancing with him.

it’s not. baz is hardly likely to pounce.

-

they end up talking.

it’s rough, scraping, just like baz expected.

“snow.”

“pitch.”

and then they wait, for the other to make a move. sizing each other up.

“you’re not getting my sisters.”

and baz nods. because he knows that. he’s fine with that.

-

he’s a prince, and snow’s a prince, but he still thinks snow is the most beautiful person at the ball.

maybe he wasn’t meant to have a queen.

he doesn’t tell his father.

-

they come together in a desperate clash.

they hate each other. they hate each other. they hate they hate they hate-

they have to.

right?

-

baz isn’t getting simon’s sisters.

but he is getting frantic kisses, and pale golden fingers contrasting against his own papery ones.

he is getting solid blue stares into his own grey eyes.

he is getting embraces so tight he couldn’t wiggle out of them if he tried.

(he doesn’t try.)

-

basilton pitch is in love with simon snow.

and it’s eye contact across crowded ballroom floors.

it’s tearing jealousy when he’s dancing with someone else.

it’s being confused. it’s everything blurring together except when he’s with him. it’s two princes, gold against silver.

-

“don’t go.” pale words, whispered against a bronze neck. “please.”

“i have to. i’m sorry, i have to-”

it’s only been two weeks.

and baz hasn’t chosen a queen.

“celeste,” suggests simon. “marry celeste. we could see each other, then-”

“i thought you hated me.” baz hides his face in simon’s chest, hearing him breath.

“i do,” says simon, but his voice is uncertain.

“i can’t marry celeste, that’s a horrible thing to do.”

“it’s just strategy. i thought that’s what you pitches are all about?”

“of course not,” says baz, voice gentle as butterfly wings. simon buries his face in baz’s hair and wishes, wishes, wishes-

longer.

just a little longer.

-

“celeste, would you marry the prince?”

“of course.” her eyes are wide, confused. “that’s what i’m here for, isn’t it?”

“no, i- if he didn’t love you back.”

“i never expected he would. i thought this was just business. why?”

“i can’t- celeste, i _can’t_ tell you-”

she examines him with shrewd eyes- his mussed hair, desperate eyes.

“is it his sister?”

“no! it’s-”

her eyes slide shut, and when she opens them again she looks impossibly sad. “is it him?”

simon freezes. “i-”

“ _simon_.”

“how could you know that? i-” his head droops. “-will you?”

“of course i will, simon. you’re my baby brother. but- don’t let anyone know. you can’t let anyone know.”

-

“she said she would.”

“ _what_? you told her? snow, you can’t- we can’t-”

“no, she figured it out on her own- but you have to say yes, okay? _please_.”

“of course. of course i’ll say yes, of course, but- no one can know, okay? please. no one can know _why_.”

-

they’re married in blue and grey silk, and it’s a grand affair- the union of two kingdoms, warring for centuries. baz looks like a marble statue, all angles and chiseled cheekbones, while celeste is as soft and radiant as a rose.

they’re both so beautiful.

-

“i love you, i love you, i love you-”

it’s baz’s wedding night but he’s kissing another. he should feel guilty but he can’t- all he feels is love and _terror_ , deep inside-

what if they’re caught? found out? separated?

they have tonight.

“i love you so much. i love you. i love you.”


End file.
